


You Never Cry Like A Lover

by sxldato



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Smut, Cage Trauma, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Traumatized Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: Sam doesn't like when his partner cries. (Inspired by a headcanon written by @prodigil on tumblr.)





	You Never Cry Like A Lover

**Author's Note:**

> written for the "cry into chest" bingo square  
> the title is, once again, taken from an eagles song  
> to clarify: sam is trans in this fic, as prodigil writes sam as trans and i wanted to honor that because i was inspired by his headcanon. it doesn't feature very heavily, but i wanted to mention it here in case there was any confusion as to why sam is using a sex toy with cas. also, if you don't like trans sam, you can uhhh fuck off i guess!

Sam’s fingers are digging into Cas’s thighs, Cas sitting on his lap and riding the fat purple toy strapped to Sam’s pelvis, when Sam notices the tears streaming down Cas’s face. 

Dread settles in like a stone, killing all pleasure. 

"Hold on, hold on.” Sam grips Cas tighter, slowing Cas’s rhythmic grinding to a halt. “Are you okay?” 

Cas’s eyelashes flutter. A tear hits Sam’s bare stomach and his muscles clench. 

“It’s tight,” Cas admits. “It hurts.” 

“Then we’ll stop.” Sam’s heart is fucking pounding. “Okay? Let me help you.” 

Sam pulls Cas down, close to his chest, and tenderly turns Cas over onto the sheets. The toy is still buried in Cas all the way to the hilt, and Cas screws his eyes shut in pain when Sam adjusts their position. 

“I’m sorry.” The words fall out of Sam’s mouth, clumsy. “I’m sorry.” 

He kisses Cas’s cheek, tasting the salt of the tears on his lips, and pulls out as gingerly as he can. He strokes Cas’s hair in an attempt at a comforting gesture, but his hand trembles. 

The toy tapers out with the thickest point at the bottom, and Sam watches the relief wash over Cas’s face when the first few inches come out. 

“We can keep going,” Cas says. He’s flushed, covered in a light sheen of sweat, still hard. He reaches out, maybe to take Sam by the bicep, but all of a sudden it’s the last thing Sam wants. 

He pulls out the rest of the way and moves to the foot of the bed, busying himself with taking off the strap-on harness. 

“I don’t want to,” Sam mumbles. 

He’d messed up. Cas had trusted him and he’d  _hurt_ him. 

“Sam?” Cas scoots down to the bottom of the bed to join Sam. He’s tugged on Sam’s flannel, far too big for him. It’s pretty endearing, actually. “What’s wrong?”

Sam shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about it-- doesn’t want to tell Cas that Lucifer had delighted in the tears Sam shed for all those years. He’d poked and prodded and everything in between, had licked the tears off Sam’s chin with his cold inhuman tongue. 

“You just suffer so  _beautifully_ ,” Lucifer had told him, snaking his own body around Sam’s, coiling tight, squeezing, squeezing, until Sam had thought his lungs would burst.

“You’re gorgeous,” Lucifer had hissed while he ripped Sam apart. “And I have you all to myself.” 

“You don’t own me,” Sam had spat out. 

“Look around, baby.” Lucifer was always too close, breathing down his neck, touching him. “Look at where you are.  _You’re mine._ ” 

Sam isn’t there anymore, but sometimes that doesn’t even make a difference. 

“I’m alright,” Cas reassures him. He rubs soothing circles into Sam’s back. “These things happen, Sam. It’s okay.” 

If he was normal, he would have switched to a slimmer toy and railed Cas until they both saw stars. But he’s not normal. He’ll never be normal. Lucifer had made sure of that. Every stimulus holds the threat of sending him back to that place where Lucifer had owned him-- especially when it comes to sex. It’s a fucking minefield. 

“I hurt you,” Sam whispers. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Cas promises. “It's nothing for you to get upset over, please don't cry."

Sam had been so caught up in memory that he hadn’t realized he’d started crying in the first place. He hastily brushes the tears away with the back of his hand. 

“I’m fine,” he says, but his voice cracks and the meager facade shatters. His eyes sting and he shivers despite the humid summer heat drifting in through the open window. 

“You’re not fine,” Cas says. “Come here.” 

Now it’s Cas turn to draw him close, but there’s no strap-on this time, no pain, no desire. Now it’s Sam breaking apart, sobbing into Cas’s chest, anger rippling through him in waves because none of this is fair. But he’s too tired to get angry. All he can do, really, is cry out of grief for all that he will never be. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @itsaboutsam!


End file.
